A Foolish Figure
by RuGrimm
Summary: In present day London, a string of mysterious, unscheduled murders occur and no one can be trusted. Can Grell and William save their love, and will the adoptive daughter of William himself finally have the strength to overcome her fears and her foreshadowed death? GrellxWilliam, RonaldxOC. Warnings for graphic violence, possible lemon, etc. etc.
1. Prologue: The Coming of a Storm

Hey guys! Well, this is really my first ever fanfiction (well, scond technically, the first was deleted cause it stunk). I apologize for the lack of words in this chapter, but it is a prolouge, so I didn't want to write too much, just enough.

Anyways, if you guys really want to know what this is about, it is a WillxGrell and RonaldxOC fanfic. The OC is kinda likea female version of William, so this is technically a RonxWill and WillxGrell fanfic. Um, wow, sorry, this sounds pretty lame, I'm not very good at introductions XD

Some people call me my old name, Raven, other call me Grimm. I do take OC requests, cuz I will need OCs later in the story. So if you want to add one of your own characters or add a suggestion for a scene or something, don't be afraid to ask! I'll try to fit as much as I can where I can, 'cause you guys are really just plain awesome. If you want me to write a short fanfic for you, I also do requests for those and my inbox is always open for you guys!

Anyways, enough of my ramblings, I hope you guys enjoy :)

xxx

'_That he is mad, 'tis true, 'tis true,_

_'tis pity, 'tis pity, 'and pity 'tis,_

_'tis true-a foolish figure.'_

_-Hamlet (William Shakespeare)_

The freezing autumn rain sprinkled on the outskirts London. Not a soul could be seen in the damp, vacant, streets, but in the back alleyways stood a lone figure, concealed by a black, sodden hood and the thick, heavy, London fog. The whipping wind ruffled the cloak, letting the stinging, icy droplets meet the pale skin of the figure. It mentally cursed himself on the lack of layers it was wearing; yet it remained eerily silent in the shady alleyway. Though otherwise it remained completely still, occasionally, it switched from one foot to another as proof it was more than a mere statue. The white mist of its breath mingled with the infamous London fog, and the being almost seemed like a mystic entity in the faint moonlight. Quietly, it stood there as the minutes turned to hours. The clock named Ben towering over the sleeping city struck twelve. It seemed as if it were waiting for something—or someone. Then, all of a sudden, there came a sound.

One, two…

One, two…

One, two…

The sound of footsteps echoed in the still night, and a pair of large, brown boots stepped in an icy rain puddle mere feet behind the first figure. The first whipped around with the speed of someone who had just heard the distinctive sound of a rattlesnake, and realized in mute horror who it was who had just appeared behind him.

"Master." greeted the first after several moments, biting his lip nervously as he gave a slight bow. As the second shifted slightly, the first flinched and bit his lip even harder. With every breath he shuddered, and even after several moments, he was only dimly aware of the coppery blood filling his mouth.

"Good evening. Quite the weather we're having, aren't we?" said the second, nodding in the first's general direction. Beneath the shadow of his hood was the faint glow of a cigar; somehow still burning despite the rain, and two pairs of glowing, green, eyes focused on the first figure. His voice was gruff with a hint of a British accent that could barely be detected.

"Indeed, master." Though he was no longer gnawing on his lip now that he was aware of the blood filling his mouth, though he didn't mind the taste. Nevertheless, anxiety rolled off of him in waves and it showed in his tone, and the way he clutched his fists at his sides; not to mention how he flinched at every movement the second made—he had every right to be afraid.

"They say it's going to storm."

"Isn't it storming now?" inquired the first, watching the second suspiciously with his luminescent, glowing, pink eyes.

"No, 'tis but a sprinkle. A mere prerequisite to the coming storm." The second breathed out of his nose in a sigh, smoke mingling with the misty breaths and heavy fog.

"Does this mean the 'plan' is starting soon?"

"Correct." stated the second simply, almost distantly as he slowly reached out a single, gloved hand, catching tiny droplets within his palm. "We will make it rain."

"E-Excuse me, sir?" The first had taken a step back and was staring at the second with an almost exasperated expression. He swallowed, now fearing for his life.

"We will make it rain." the second repeated, and even though he couldn't see it, the first could feel the sly smile spreading across the second's lips. "But it won't be any rain, my friend. No, it shall be made of something else entirely."

The first had a feeling of what the other would say. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist the urge question, raising a quizzical eyebrow in the process. "And what shall it be made from, master?"

The reply was a cruel, icy word, followed by a mirthful laugh. The first's lips turned upwards in a sly smile; revealing two pairs of razor sharp fangs. The fear in his now crimson eyes was doused and placed with a malicious lust.

The game was about to begin.

And it started with that single word.

_"Blood."_


	2. Chapter 1: Words and Connections

"And then she said something 'bout me not bein' all committed and how I'm always cheatin' on her, but I'm not. I mean, just because I take other girls out on dates doesn't mean I'm cheating! I just feel sorry for 'em cause they're all single and everything. Personally, I think she's go a scythe through her brain or something...Geez."

Once again, the infamous Ronald Knox was going on about one of his break-ups with his now ex-girlfriend, Rebecca ("Becca") Longlynn, instead of doing the veritable mountain of paperwork set out before him on his ebony desk. The desk was situated in the center of the blonde's office on a purple rug; the room painted white and black along with several miscellaneous items (rubber plants, a clock, filing cabinets, a table, etc.) were lined up along the walls. Ronald was sitting in a black, roll-around chair closest to the door, and on the opposite end of the desk was a white-haired reaper by the name of Elzabeth. Elzabeth M. Spears. Her long, snow white hair hung down; covering her face as she payed no heed to the blonde Shinigami across from her. She had earlier been asked to help young Knox with catching up on his paperwork; a job she was forced to do all too often. More or less, by _helping,_ she was actually doing the paperwork for him. Nevertheless, she did it anyways with little complaint. It was, after all, her job as a Shinigami, and what kind of reaper would she be if she couldn't do a little paperwork?

The white reaper stayed silent, the only sound in the room was the scratching of her pencil and ticking of the purple clock hung upon the eastern wall. At last, it was the blonde who broke the silence, "So what are ya doin' Saturday?"

"Working" was her cold reply, not even bothering to chance a glance at the reaper with bi-colored locks.

"Is that, like, all you ever do?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow and giving a smug look in Elzabeth's direction.

"You should know that by now, Ronald."

"Dude, ya need to like, get out or something. When's the last time you've had a boyfriend?" There was an inquisitive tone in his voice as he leaned back in his chair; putting both feet up on his desk and cradling his head in his hands.

"The last time you were single." she scoffed, not looking up as she swept Ronald's feet off the desk easily with her pencil. "Never."

"Hey! That's not fair! I don't date all the time! I'm single now! It's been a whole three hours!" Ronald crossed his arms defiantly, pursing his lips in a pout as he crossed his right leg over the left.

"Wow, a new record. Three hours without a girlfriend, that must be painful. I hope you don't die from the stress, I don't take kindly to the thought of having to do you paperwork for the rest of eternity. Wait, never mind. I already do that anyways. Scythe forbid you actually took advantage of your relationship status and actually do what you're being paid to do." Elzabeth chastised, rolling her eyes and reaching for another form to fill out.

"Dude, you have no idea how hard it is for me! Girls are crawling up my legs just to date me, if I don't get a girl soon, they might start calling dibs on which body parts they want to date." he groaned, running the palms of his hands down his face dramatically.

"You whine like Grell-senpai."

"Well, I'll pass on the paperwork, I gotta date with a hot chick tonight." he chirped, grinning as he pointed to himself with his thumbs.

"Shocker." Elzabeth rolled her eyes a second time, flexing her hand slightly as her hand was starting to begin to cramp from the endless hours of writing she had endured. "Who's the unfortunate secretary that has to deal with your lame jokes and cheesy pick-up lines tonight?"

"Eh, she's no secretary. She actually works in the Dispatch," he said as a matter-of-fact; still grinning.

This peaked the white haired reaper's interest, and at last she looked up; quirking an eyebrow. The black framed glasses adorned with a single white rose on either side flashed as the light reflected off it, and her two-toned gaze met Ronald's. As far as Elzabeth knew, there were only three female officers in the entire Dispatch, and she was one of them. The second was a blonde reaper that had been assigned to be Ronald's caretaker when he was reaped and she went by the name of Felicianna Knox; the Italian Dispatch Director. Most reapers were reincarnated from their human lives after they died, and there were only a handful of pure blood (or born) reapers in the entire Dispatch. Any reaper who died before the age of seventeen were assigned a caretaker, or foster parent, until they turned seventeen and were admitted into the Academy. All 'adopted' reapers had their last name changed to that of their caretaker's. Such a thing happened with Elzabeth herself, as she was the youngest ever to be reaped; dying at the age of seven and assigned William T. Spears as a caretaker.

Besides Elzabeth and Felicianna, the last female reaper was Rachel E. Goodwin, otherwise known as 'Rae'. She was a transfer from the Paris Division in the French Dispatch. No one quite knew why the brunette had been transferred. Some say it was because she had a bad habit of drinking on the job, others say it was because she was mentally unstable, and there were a select few that believe it was because of a terrible incident on the job. Elzabeth herself had no idea, and she only knew Rae because she was the reaper that Elzabeth had been assigned with during the final exam. Nevertheless, she was the only other female reaper besides Elzabeth that Ronald could possibly have his eye on.

"Rae? You are aware that she isn't into men, aren't you?" she questioned the white clad reaper. She had learned that herself personally when the brunette had been flirting with her in the break room. Needless to say, Elzabeth made it clear she wanted nothing to do with the French reaper and the two were still on good terms to this day.

"Well duh, I didn't mean _her._ She's too much like Grell-senpai anyway; it'd be like dating him." Ronald shivered at the thought of dating his senior, though the smug expression returned to his face and stayed there as if it was plastered to his face like wallpaper.

"Then _who_ are you implying?" The sharp note in her tone grew slightly, her dual colored eyes narrowing as she threw the blonde a threatening glance; almost as if she was daring him to say what she knew he was bound to. She knew exactly what he would say next, as the two of them had been down this road several times before. Each time, the answer was the same: no. However, Ronald Knox was famous for always getting his girl, and he was as persistent as ever-much to Elzabeth's dismay.

Paying no heed to the warning glare he was receiving from across his paper clad desk, he winked; grin forming from ear to ear. "Who else?"

Elzabeth sighed, rubbing her temple in an attempt to stop the headache she knew was coming. She then closed her green and amber eyes before speaking. _"No."_

It wasn't as if she minded going out somewhere, but the fact it would be with Ronald Knox, of all people. The thought revolted her, disgusted her; it was almost unimaginable. She was a Shinigami; a Death God/Goddess. There was no time for such childish games-especially with Ronald Knox. She had no interest in the blonde whatsoever, nor would she ever, and if she was in a burning building and had to choose between Ronald Knox and her paperwork, she'd choose paperwork every time. He was impetuous, self-centered, stupid, lazy, disrespectful, and downright annoying. If he could have any girlfriend more than a week, it was a miracle. However, there seemed to be a never ending line for the blonde, and once Ronald broke up with one, it wasn't long before another girl took his place. Of course, Elzabeth could hardly blame them them; Knox was rather handsome, and polite (when he wanted to be), but his reckless, headstrong, stupid demeanor was something that Ms. Spears couldn't help but not stand. The blonde knew exactly how to push every single one of her buttons, and he did a damn good job at pushing those buttons everyday. Elzabeth swore that one day she would kill the annoying blonde one day, or at least beat the devil out of him. Too bad there was a ban on such violence, and fighting was strictly frowned upon in the workplace. Otherwise the blonde would have died a long time ago.

"Aw come on, Elz!" She cringed as he called her that...Otherwise known as: the forbidden name. Elzabeth thought she had made it clear with the blonde that she had absolutely despised the nickname he had given her. For some reason, Ronald gave names to every single reaper that came into the Dispatch except for Grell and William; but with good reasons. Grell...well, it was too short and almost impossible to come up with a nickname, and if Ronald had made up a nickname and the redhead hadn't liked it...well...there wouldn't be anything left of the blonde (save for the several splatters of blood on the walls, ceiling, and floor). William, well the only one who had ever gotten away with calling him Will was Grell, anyone else was given overtime or hit upside the head with his pruning shears. Needless to say, no one dared to call him Will or Willy except the over-zealous redhead. "You know you want to."

_"NO."_ Elzabeth glared at him, nearly snapping her pencil as she gripped it tightly in frustration and hissed at him through her gritted teeth.

Ronald laughed, standing up when he did not receive the answer he was looking for-though the white haired reaper went back to her pencil-pushing and ignoring him. He walked around to stand behind her before wrapping his arms around her waist; resting his chin on her shoulder between the two black stripes on her formal, white jacket (which bore silver buttons and two black stripes down either sleeve. "Are you sure?" he crooned, smirking as Elzabeth stiffened.

The white-haired reaper was about to round on him, intent on driving her scythe so far up his arse he could lick it. However, it was not to be. A firm, loud knock against the office door drew their attention, and Ronald left her side as quickly as he had come.

"Sup, Marty?!" he chimed as he opened the door, giving a mock salute as he saw the huge reaper outside the room.

Martin Riesenberg: director of the British Dispatch. He was like the Shinigami version of the Jolly Green Giant. Minus the green. The reaper had platinum blonde hair and stood almost six and a half feet tall; weighing a full hundred and seventy-two pounds of raw muscle. To put it simply: he wasn't little. His hair was slicked back, and he wore a pair of black glasses as he chewed on the cigar in his mouth. Martin slid it to the corner of his mouth as he blew out and began to speak. "Aye, not much, Ron." His two-toned gaze flew over to where Elzabeth was sitting. "Am I interrupting something?"

The working reaper sighed, looking up and adjusting her glasses with her pencil. "No sir. Nothing but paperwork, Mr. Riesenberg."

"Ah, yes. Paperwork. The Spears' reputation; cold ass pencil pushers." Despite his rank as a director, Martin was one of the...ruder Shinigami in the Dispatch. Nevertheless, he was hard working, and one of the oldest Shinigami left; perhaps around half a millenia or so. "You're too much like your father."

"Mr. Spears is _not_ my _father;_ he was merely a temporary guardian until I was old enough to join the Academy. As for my demeanor, Mr. Riesenberg, I was only, humbly, following the rules and expectations of this Dispatch and Shinigami-kind. I merely live to serve." she stated, an icy edge in her tone-almost bitter. Elzabeth then stood, picking up a rather large ledger and tucking it under her arm before starting towards the door. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have an _appointment_ at four o' clock sharp this evening. Good day to the both of you."

"_Temporary guardian_? So that's why you kept your last name Spears and have adoption forms in your file. Makes sense." Martin chuckled, smirking as the white haired reaper walked past him.

Elzabeth froze, glaring back at the two blonde reapers behind her out of the corner of her eyes. "Mr. Riesenberg, you are aware at our adoption policy, so you see that I was assigned Mr. Spears simply as a caretaker until I had reached the proper age. I do thank Mr. Spears on his patience through the long decade in which he was forced to put up with my presence, but he was and will never be father to me. You see, words are only words. What matters is the connections you make with them. As Ms. Juliet so beautifully said: a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet. It does not matter what I refer to him as, but the connection I make with that word. I do not call him father, because others would get the ridiculous notion that I actually care about him; that I actually have feelings towards him. And I do not have such fickle emotions. The only feeling I have towards Mr. Spears is respect. He is my coworker and boss, no more, no less. That is the way it's been, and the way it shall _always_ be."

And she left without another word.

Xxx

AH! Guys, I'm so sorry for not updating sooner. My life's been pretty hectic and I haven't found time to write anything, and when I do have time, I have writer's block. And since I don't have a computer at home anymore (thank you viruses), I had to use a school computer and write this from scratch on a copy and paste instead of uploading a file. Anyways, I promise the next chapter will be WAY better, be ready for potential smut and Grelliam ;)

-Btw, I wanted to thank the select few who have already read this story and favorite/followed/reviewed it ( Riannedogs, cielxbassy, etc.) . I love you guys!

-Also, I'd like to give credit of Martin Riesenberg to Riannedogs, as he is her haracter. I merely used him in this story with her permission

-Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters, I merely am a fan and explore he possibilities.


End file.
